Love Changes Everything (32 page)

It also meant that although she left Sam and Daisy's meal ready Daisy would have to take it out of the oven, and if they still weren't back when Daisy and Sam went off to the pub that was going to make her suspicious when it happened every night of the week.

She wondered whether it was best to wait till Daisy or her father said something or whether to be up front and tell them that she had an evening cleaning job, but if she did tell them about it, then they would expect her to hand over whatever she earned towards the housekeeping and that would defeat her plans.

The first couple of weeks went well. Mr Browning confirmed at the end of the first week that he was very satisfied with her work and that he wanted her to continue. Sylvia was delighted that it had all turned out so successfully and Trixie felt that at long last she was getting control of her life and could start to plan for the future.

Now that Andrew had finished his course and was home again they could plan things together and she hoped he would be as enthusiastic and encouraging as Jake was when she talked to him about her hopes of leaving Virgil Street.

As the days began to get shorter and it was almost dark by teatime Daisy started asking pointed questions about where they were going, especially when it was cold or raining.

Trixie shrugged and tried to make light of it but she was afraid to openly lie and say she was going round to see Ivy in case Cilla might say something to the contrary. Also, she knew it would look strange if she went to see Ivy every night.

For a time she managed to fend off Daisy's prying with one excuse or other, but how long she would manage to go on doing so she wasn't sure. She narrowly avoided everything coming out into the open when Cilla had an accident.

The normal routine was that each evening, the moment they arrived at the chiropodist's, Cilla climbed up into the big leather chair in which Mr Browning's clients sat while he attended to their feet, and sat there till Trixie had finished her work and they were ready to go home.

Usually she sat perfectly still but on this particular evening she had started playing with the lever which raised, lowered and tilted the chair to the angle Mr Browning wanted. Somehow she managed to get her arm pinioned between the mechanism and the main body of the chair.

For a long time she sat there with her arm trapped, but not saying a word. When Trixie was ready to leave she held out a hand to her, but Cilla remained where she was.

‘Come on, time for us to go home,' Trixie called as she walked towards the door.

When there was no response she turned round and was surprised to see that Cilla was still sitting in the chair.

‘Hurry up,' Trixie urged. ‘My feet are killing me and all I want to do is get home and take my shoes off.'

Cilla still didn't move so she went back and took her by the hand to pull her from the chair. Then and only then did Cilla let out a sharp cry of pain and Trixie realised that her arm was stuck.

Trixie tried everything she could to free it but it was stuck fast. She was afraid to put too much pressure on it, or to move the lever at all, in case she made matters worse or even broke Cilla's arm.

After a moment of panic she tried to reason out the best thing to do. She needed to get help but who could help in such a matter? she asked herself. The only person she could think of was Jake but it would take too long to go all the way to Horatio Street to fetch him and she couldn't be sure he'd even be there.

If she left Cilla trapped in the chair and on her own then she would probably become distressed and frightened because she might think Trixie had gone away and left her. She tried to think of some other way of getting help. In the end it seemed that the only thing she could do was to go down into the street and see if she could find a policeman.

She tried to explain to Cilla what she was about to do and although she nodded her head and seemed to understand, Trixie could see the scared look in her eyes when she went towards the door.

She propped the door open so that it wouldn't lock behind her, and was lucky in that the moment she went out into Cazneau Street she found a patrolling policeman. He listened to her story and agreed to come with her to see what he could do.

As he walked into the room with Trixie he removed his helmet and then knelt down by the side of the chair and talked to Cilla. In a quiet, reassuring voice he tried to find out how she had managed to trap her arm.

Cilla was unable to tell him. She was now sobbing noisily and Trixie tried her best to calm her down and explained that she wasn't in any trouble and that the policeman was only trying to help her to get free from the chair.

Even with his help it was impossible to free Cilla's arm. ‘It's been trapped so long that it's become very swollen and that is making things more complicated,' he said as he stood up and replaced his helmet. ‘Try and quieten her and I'll fetch some more help.'

He was away for about ten minutes and Trixie was beginning to get very worried. When he returned there were two other uniformed men with him but they were firemen, not policemen.

Once again Trixie tried to explain what she thought must have happened. When she saw the tools they'd brought with them she was also rather concerned that they might cause some damage to Mr Browning's chair.

‘We'll do our best not to do any damage, Miss,' the one in charge assured her, ‘but our main concern is to free this child's arm.'

Trixie hovered, keeping a watchful eye on what was happening and at the same time trying to comfort Cilla.

Almost a quarter of an hour elapsed before they finally managed to free Cilla, who by this time was screaming with pain.

‘Her arm is crushed and needs medical attention,' the senior fire officer insisted as he carried her out to where an ambulance was already waiting to take them to the hospital.

Cilla became almost hysterical as they attended to her arm and her terrified screams upset Trixie who was unable to calm her. They all did their best to try and explain to Cilla what was happening but it seemed to be impossible to make her understand.

When they'd finished dressing her arm the staff nurse said that they would be keeping her in overnight and told Trixie to come back in the morning. ‘By then we'll be able to decide if she's well enough to be discharged.'

Trixie begged to be allowed to stay with her.

‘That's not necessary,' the staff nurse told her firmly. ‘She will be in good hands, there's no need for you to worry.'

‘She's not like other children, she doesn't always understand what is happening,' Trixie pleaded. ‘If I walk out and leave her—'

‘Yes, I understand what you are saying.' The staff nurse frowned. ‘She has already disrupted the entire ward with her screaming. In fact, she can be heard all over the hospital.'

‘Perhaps I could take her home and bring her back in again in the morning so that you can see if her arm is all right,' Trixie suggested hesitantly.

‘Wait here and I'll see what Sister thinks about it.'

‘We wouldn't normally permit you to do this,' the sister told her severely, ‘but since the only alternative will be to sedate her—'

‘No, please, that's not necessary,' Trixie protested. Cilla was already tense with fear and exhausted by all she'd been through and Trixie knew that what she needed more than anything else was the reassurance of her own bed and familiar surroundings. Once they were home she was sure she would calm down.

‘If you take her home then you must bring her back tomorrow so that we can look at her arm again after the swelling has gone down and make sure that there's no hidden damage. Whatever you do, don't unwrap the bandages or let them get wet. The desk clerk will tell you what time we will want to see you, so make sure you're punctual, understand?'

Chapter Twenty-Eight

It was almost ten o'clock by the time Trixie and Cilla reached Virgil Street. Trixie was hoping there would be time to make something to eat and get Cilla off to bed before Daisy and her father came in so that they wouldn't see her heavily bandaged arm and start asking questions.

She felt utterly exhausted and wanted to get to bed herself. She also wanted to be on her own to try and work out what she was going to tell Mr Browning. She decided she'd have to go along there first thing in the morning and explain to him what had happened before he heard it from someone else.

Cilla was restless and kept Trixie awake for most of the night. The following day it was still quite dark when she pulled herself out of bed and started to dress. As she peeped out of the window at the miserable grey October morning she shivered not only with the cold but also with the thought of the meeting with Mr Browning that lay ahead.

She waited till she heard her father leave for work before she roused Cilla. She wanted to get her dressed so that they could be on their way before Daisy was up and started asking questions about Cilla's bandaged arm.

After a hurried breakfast, Trixie cleared away their dishes as quickly as possible. She was anxious to be at Mr Browning's before he saw his first client.

By the time they were ready to leave it had started to rain and there was such a high wind that she didn't think it was any good taking an umbrella. Yet, if she didn't do so then Cilla would get wet and if she arrived at the hospital with her bandages all wet they were bound to be told off by the sister.

As she had foreseen, they were turning the corner into Cazneau Street when a sudden gust caught the umbrella and swept it from her hand and she knew it was useless to try and recover it.

If only Jake was there he would have chased after it and he would probably have offered to carry Cilla as far as Cazneau Street, she thought mutinously.

Why did she always think of Jake whenever she had a problem when she ought to think of Andrew? she wondered. It was probably because Andrew was never there to help her like Jake was and he didn't have much time for Cilla either. How on earth would she manage without the O'Malleys – especially Jake, who was always so kind and understanding to Cilla as well as to her?

They were both soaked through by the time they reached Mr Browning's. His response when Trixie told him what had happened the evening before was not very understanding.

‘I thought you said that your sister would sit quietly while you got on with your work?'

‘She was sitting quietly in the chair; it was where she always sat,' Trixie explained.

Mr Browning frowned heavily. ‘You should never have let her sit there in the first place. If it is damaged in any way then I shall hold you responsible.'

‘The fireman was very careful to make sure that it wasn't. Only my sister's arm came to harm,' Trixie defended. ‘She had to be taken to hospital and I am on my way to take her back there so that they can make sure that there is nothing broken. It was so swollen last night that they were unable to examine it properly.'

‘I see!' He took off his spectacles and polished them vigorously with a large white handkerchief which he took from his top pocket. ‘Does this mean you won't be able to work this evening?'

Trixie looked rather taken aback. ‘I had every intention of doing so,' she said stiffly.

He nodded, biting his lips and frowning. ‘What about your sister? Under the circumstances, I trust you are not thinking of bringing her with you again?'

‘Of course I will be bringing her! I told you there's no one she can stay with and I certainly can't leave her on her own.'

‘So this sort of thing can happen again, can it?'

Trixie flushed angrily. ‘Accidents do happen, Mr Browning. I'm very sorry about it and I can assure you it won't occur again.'

He ran one of his bony hands over his chin as he stared back at her and she thought for a moment that he was going to sack her. Then he gave an imperceptible shrug of his thin shoulders. ‘Very well, make sure there's no repetition of anything like this.'

Although it meant she still had her job, his attitude rankled with Trixie. He seemed to be barely concerned about how badly hurt Cilla was. His only worry was that his precious chair might have been damaged, she thought rebelliously as she took Cilla's hand and they went out into the cold, wet street again.

Her reception at the hospital was not much better. She was five minutes late arriving which brought a sharp reprimand from the sister. It was followed by an acid comment that both of them were so wet that they were making puddles on the polished floor as the water dripped from them.

‘You'd better not sit down; other people won't want wet chairs,' the sister said sharply, her well-starched dark blue dress and crisp white apron crackling as she led Cilla away into a curtained-off cubicle.

‘Please stay out in the waiting room,' she ordered sharply as Trixie made to follow her.

The iciness of her tone and her officious manner upset Cilla who became frightened and began to cry and shout for Trixie. After a few minutes, when it became obvious that they were not going to be able to remove the dressing unless they used force to hold her down, the sister told Trixie she'd better join them.

It was left to Trixie to take off Cilla's soaking wet outdoor clothes and then to begin to unwind the bandages and remove them from her arm. By then Cilla had calmed down and the nurse who was also in attendance was able to take over.

Although her arm was still swollen and very badly bruised they ascertained that there were no bones broken and after a fresh dressing had been put on it she was discharged.

The rain had stopped by the time they left the hospital. It was still cold and miserable, though, and on the spur of the moment Trixie decided to go and see Ella. She felt in need of a friendly face and the opportunity to tell someone about the accident, someone who would understand and be sympathetic.